


Wild Card

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Angels and Demons Verse [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Assassin Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel, BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, FBI Agent Castiel, Humor, POV Castiel, pigeons!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:18:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: The game has begun. Draw your cards. Choose your strategy.And attack.Don’t forget the ace up your sleeve.





	Wild Card

**Author's Note:**

> Was supposed to post this yesterday but hey y’all still got a nice and quick update! (Relatively speaking...) but seriously y’all’s comments were just so awesome in the previous part ofc I had to pay y’all back by getting something else out fast!

Castiel really didn’t know why he was doing this.

Well. Correction. He knew why he was doing it. He just had no idea  _ why _ he was doing  _ this.  _

Maybe he needed to refresh his memory a bit.

Working for Michael? Check. Just another day undercover.

Running into another undercover agent, only, he was actually an… assassin? 

...Castiel had weirder days. Maybe. He would need to double check with Gabriel, because he was with Gabriel to have even garnered weirder days in the first place, only to consecutively not be able to remember later. 

Agreeing to work with said assassin? Admittedly, he’d had finer moments, but this wouldn’t top his list of not finer moments, if Castiel was being honest.

All of that, Castiel could keep up with. But no matter how hard he tried, Castiel still couldn’t figure out what led him to having a sniper trained on a man named Raphael, three buildings away. He’d been sitting here for too long, so it was saying a lot that he still couldn’t put it all together yet.

A pigeon came to land on the terrace beside him, cooing softly.

* * *

 

Watching Dean on crutches was weird to say the least. In his entire time of knowing the man – which was maybe a few days when put together in total – Dean had always been graceful, confident in his body, and even sleek. If such a term could be applied to a human being, then it would fit Dean perfectly.

Right now? Hobbling around in his crutches, Dean was anything but. And yet, Castiel wondered if anyone could ever look so when using crutches. He’d still give Dean that he made it look easy, regardless. Almost as if it wasn’t the first time he’d had to use them. 

Castiel briefly wondered how assassins would be able to get injured in their line of duty. 

“So, is there a reason for my being here?” He eventually spoke up.

Looking up from where he’d been irritatedly pacing the hospital suite – and it was an actual suite too. Castiel highly doubted there was anyone else on this floor, but he again didn’t bother looking into that particular detail too closely yet. 

“Just hold your damn horses, will you?” Dean grumbled, and then promptly continued to hobble back and forth again. Raising his eyebrows, Castiel decided it was probably best if he didn’t reply that it wasn’t his horses that seemed needing to be held. Regardless, he wisely continued to keep his mouth shut and resigned himself to waiting for an answer he didn’t think he’d get. Up until someone else walked into the room.

Castiel was out of his seat in a second. The clock’s hand barely moved to the next before he got his gun trained at the man too, safety turned off. 

The man, for his part, didn’t look fazed. “Good reflexes.” He instead nodded at Castiel. 

“How the hell did you get in here?” Castiel growled. Because there was no way he could have gotten  in so easily, not without either Dean or Castiel being notified by the multiple alarms that had been set in the room. Unnoticeable, but Castiel had no doubt when Dean had mentioned it with a careless gesture. 

“I’d like to say it’s because I’m Lucifer,” the man said cheekily, leaning against the doorway as he tucked his hand into his coat’s pockets. 

Dean snorted. “Drama queen.” He muttered. They both seemed oblivious to Castiel’s meanwhile increasing alarm, until he drew attention to it. 

“I’m sorry, but are you telling me that Samuel Wesson is in your impenetrable hospital room — and you don’t seem bothered by it.” What started out as an exclaim only led to Castiel rapidly deflating with disbelief when Dean just shrugged, hobbling towards Sam. 

“He prefers Sam, actually.” 

Shrugging, Sam’s head bobbed in a way that said he most certainly wouldn’t deny it. “I do, actually.” 

And then they hugged.

Cas’s mind short circuited.

* * *

 

“What’re you looking at,” Castiel muttered to the unflinching pigeon. He’d managed to stay as silent as he’d been trained to this entire time, up until the pigeon decided it wasn’t going to stop staring at him. 

Seriously. Castiel was fairly sure it hadn’t even moved for the past few minutes, and that was definitely unpigeonlike behaviour, right?

_ “What’s that, Cas?”  _ His earcomm crackled to life, Dean’s voice a low rasp in his ear.

“Just a pigeon,” he mumbled back. There was a muffled sound of laughter, Castiel suspected was Sam, but apart from that, everything was silent once again.

Inhaling deeply, Castiel focused once again on his target.

* * *

 

“So you’re telling me you infiltrated Lucifer’s men and became the next Lucifer,” Castiel said to Sam, a hand massaging a headache that seemed to move in permanently. “And you became an assassin, all in some seriously elaborate plot to get revenge for your parents?” He finished, looking back and forth between the two brothers.

That’s right. Dean Winchester, undercover assassin working for one side of the city’s mob boss, and Sam Winchester, the newest yet nonetheless powerful as he was cunning. Were brothers. Blood brothers. From the same womb. And from the same father.

A quick mental inventory showed that Castiel was running low on Ibuprofen, but he still had some Aleve left and an untouched packaging of Tylenol.

“Well, not just that.” Sam said, sitting down on Dean’s bed. Dean was leaning against the windowsill, but his barely concealed wince made Castiel think that the usual position wasn’t done for comfort this time. “Sure, they killed our mother, our father, left us orphans at a young age with nowhere to go and almost next to nothing under our name–”

“But there’s also the entire, ‘it’s not just our family that’s been tossed aside as collateral damage’ under Raphael’s pocket.” Dean cut in.

“Figures, that the brother of Michael and Lucifer—senior,” Castiel quirked an eyebrow at Sam, who dismissed it with an easy nod. “Is worse than the both of them combined.” He deadpanned.

Dean snorts. “You gotta know something’s up when you’re worse when compared to someone named after the devil.”

Grinning wryly, Sam pulled a now pacing again Dean onto the bed beside him, finally forcing the man into inaction. “Aw, c’mon. I’m not that bad.”

Shaking his head, Dean rolled his eyes.  _ “Drama queen,” _ he mouthed to Castiel.

* * *

 

_ “You’ve still got eyes on the target, yeah Cas?”  _ Sam’s voice suddenly came in, sounding urgent. Frowning, Castiel blinked. 

“Yes. Target in position.”

Dean snorted through the comm.  _ “For a man that lasted about seven minutes in bed — and that’s putting it nicely — he sure sleeps like he went longer than that.” _

Cas rolled his eyes, though he was quick to redirect his eyes to where they were supposed to be. “I wouldn’t be so easily fooled. Something tells me Raphael wouldn’t let anything go by too easily.”

_ “You’d be right, Castiel.”  _ Castiel blinked as Sam’s voice abruptly changed tone. This was no longer Sam Winchester. 

This was Sam ‘Lucifer’ Wesson. And Castiel was sure to take a moment to thank whoever actually ran things up there that he wasn’t at the sharp edge of that tone. 

_ “You ready, De?” _

_ “To knock this bastard down? I’ve been ready since you’ve been in diapers, Sammy.” _

_ “Good. We’re going in.” _

Swallowing, Castiel kept his trigger finger at the ready.

* * *

 

“‘Course, it wouldn’t be as easy as just taking Raphael down,” Dean mentioned. They were currently sitting on either side of Dean’s bed, Dean himself lying on it. A nurse had come in — after thorough inspection, Castiel didn’t fail to notice — and had subtly reprimanded Dean for staying on his crutches too long. Apparently, just because he’d been given them hadn’t meant he’d been given the good to go to actually start using them. 

Which led to the three currently playing cards, out of sheer lack of nothing else to do once Dean had been delegated to bedrest once again. Castiel and Sam must have been on the same page when the both came to the silent decision that it wasn’t right to be mobile when Dean was not. 

So far, Castiel could happily say it was an interesting game.

He wondered if the brothers had bothered to make sure the vents were clear as well. Actually, if Gabriel did come out of it, then Castiel couldn’t be surprised anymore at this point. 

“We’ve got to take the others as well, even on my side. I swear, I can’t wait to get my hands on Azazel’s neck and watch the life go out of his eyes as he realize too late what’s going on.” Sam muttered darkly. It was at stark contrasts with the childish glee that immediately took over as he laid down a card, leaving both Castiel and Dean stunned at their sudden disadvantage. 

And then Castiel replayed Sam’s choice of words. 

Good lord, if his higher ups knew what Castiel was doing right now… 

Gabriel would be giving him a promotion, that Castiel knew all too well, unfortunately. 

“Mmhm. Can I take down Lilith while we’re at it? I mean, Crowley’s a smarmy bastard, and though he can be useful, not so much when Lilith and hellhounds are still a thing at the same time.” Dean said, casually turning the game on Sam and Castiel. 

Closing his eyes, Castiel took a deep breath, praying for patience. He laid down his final cards. 

“I’m just going to ignore the fact that you’re sounding a bit too gleeful about murder for this to be for a truly righteous cause. Why don’t you just tell me where I come into all this?” Castiel said. “Oh. And I won.”

The brothers stared down at the pile atop Dean’s lap, before they both raised their heads in perfect synchronization to shoot Castiel impressed looks.

“Can we keep him?” Dean said. 

Sam shrugged. They didn’t take away their eyes from Castiel. “I like him if you do.”


End file.
